Complements
by drama fixated
Summary: AU. He was hidden in the shadows, watching her intently. Ladies and gentlemen, the corniest and weirdest fic you'll ever read is here! :p


Disclaimer: Harry Potter's not mine; it belongs to J.K. Rowling and other related companies. Got it? Good.

Author's Note: Much thanks to **Kalie **for giving me this plot bunny (and nagging me to write it :p), and to **Sandra **for telling me what she thought of the word count. And this also goes out to **Sophie** – happy belated birthday, hun!

* * *

He was hidden safely in the shadows.

They provided a place for him to watch from, and without anyone noticing unless they were quick to notice eyes upon them, watching intently.

Idly he wondered when he had come to become a part of the shadows, to actually be dark and obscure himself. Or perhaps he had always been that way and just hadn't noticed it. He didn't know. Who could know for sure? He thought. As long as he was in the shadows, he was safe.

He smiled grimly at that thought.

Now he contented himself with watching a bushy brown-haired girl who was currently preoccupied at that moment with reading a book. There were several advantages to watching people in the park, he thought, and this was one of them.

Since the park was sprawling with trees and bushes everywhere, they made useful, unsuspecting watching spots.

No one would be able to find him there, especially at nighttime. And he grinned at this thought. A perfect time for him to swoop down unexpectedly at someone and take their precious soul from them, and have the color of their skin be drained white.

Just the mere thought of it and envisioning it in his mind sent an excited tremor through him. He couldn't wait – he needed to have a soul now. And opportunity had presented itself to him, in the form of this lone bushy brown-haired girl.

He examined her closely, sizing her up with his cold jade eyes. It was a good thing he had very good night vision, he thought with a grin. Being a demon had its benefits.

A _lot _of benefits.

He glanced around, making sure that no one else was there except for him and her, and prepared for the kill. No one must be in the way of him accomplishing his mission – and if they did, his eyes glowed, they would pay for it, and pay for it dearly. The mission would be even sweeter if this chit didn't protest.

His eyes glowed even brighter at this. Looking at her now, he knew he would relish having her soul. What a worthwhile feast hers would be. He couldn't help but grin manically at the thought. Now he couldn't stand waiting any longer – if he didn't have this girl's soul soon, needless to say, he would _not _be a very happy demon. So he set his mind on suddenly swooping down on her and launching his attack.

But something stopped him then. What this something was he did not know – but he didn't like that. That was definite. It stopped him from getting his target's soul – and when something stopped him from getting what he wanted most, there was hell to pay. Especially for him.

What could be niggling him so much? He sighed heavily and retreated back to the safety of the shadows. Was it the morality of it, that taking someone's soul was wrong, unjust? He scowled at that. He had had enough of morality questioning in his lifetime – his very long lifetime.

Or was it the chit? He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She wasn't bad looking – a rather nice looking one. And she looked about his age – if he was human right now. Holding back a slight grimace at the thought, he was startled to find that _she _was looking at him now. Curious brown eyes met his jade ones; forcing him to think back a step. Apparently she was done reading.

It was clear that this girl wasn't going to make things easy for him. He could tell that right now. But he didn't mind – he liked a challenge, and this girl – whatever her name was – was more than willing to present him one.

Just as long as he won in the end, of course. He smirked, and made his way to where she sat primly on the bench, looking out for anyone all the while.

* * *

They stared at each other for a long moment. It was better if they didn't speak, they decided.

She found herself speechless – for the first time in her twenty years of life. She had never encountered a demon before – logic had stubbornly drilled into her brain that demons, angels, the devil and God weren't real. Anything religious or of the supernatural didn't exist at all.

So she was literally dumbstruck once her eyes had laid upon cool green eyes, eyes that had been watching her intently. It had given her extreme chills to know and feel that someone was gazing at her as if she were some sort of an interesting specimen. And to know that _he_, a demon who was most likely out for her blood, was the one who was taking so much "interest" in her was nerveracking.

How did she know he was a demon anyhow? She wondered. His features didn't betray that he was – except for the eerie glow his eyes illuminated. The wild look in his eyes told her everything that she needed to know – the raw hunger that his eyes possessed, the frightening look of want that was directed at her.

"Am expecting you want to know what I want to do with you, don't you, wretch?" He sneered. When she nodded hesitantly, a wide grin spread across his face. "Well, it's quite simple. You see, I'm a demon who hunts, kills and lives for souls. For me, people's souls are my source of sustenance," he scowled, "even though why it had to be from filthy humans, I don't know."

She wondered whether to ask what he had against humans – but immediately scratched that idea as soon as she thought of it. He saw the questioning look on her face. "You're wondering what I could _possibly _have against humans, right?" he drawled.

Before she could answer, he went on – he already knew what her answer was. Maybe it was demon instinct or just that odd déjà vu feeling he got around her now – either way, he was very unsettled by it. It gave him a sense of foreboding, that maybe this girl wasn't what she seemed. And probably not who she appeared to be.

"Once again, simple. They've destroyed my life." He smiled bitterly. "And now, thanks to them, I've been cursed to a lifetime of eternal hell – or is it haven? The life of a demon."

"How's that so?" She challenged. "You could have bought it on yourself."

"Killing my parents whom they believed to be wizards," he met her eyes with a cold glare. "Right in front of me. Do you realize how heartless that is?"

"Maybe not, because you're being heartless yourself, taking people's souls and all," she snapped, her eyes bright.

It struck him. _Damn – This chit can_'_t be –_

"I am," she said coldly. "I take nothing, unlike you. I know that I need nothing to survive. Don't depend on others in order for you to live. One piece of advice right there."

He laughed. "Ah, but you can't survive on nothing for so long. You know that."

Her eyes glittered, then slowly, the light flickered for a minute, and flared out. "I'll never learn, will I?" She shook her head bemusedly, looking at him.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Maybe." He grinned, his eyes filled with an inner malice. She knew she definitely did _not _like that grin.

"Maybe what?"

"Maybe nothing." He kicked a stone with his foot, his eyes searching hers. "So are you going to give up this foolish pathetic fight and let me win or not?"

"Of course not," she scoffed. "This is a fair fight."

"You obviously haven't gotten the memo that there's no such thing as a "fair fight," then." He raised an eyebrow, looking deliciously, law breaking shaggable. She cursed silently under her breath.

"By your vocabulary it isn't," she retorted, trying to remain composed. _Blast him_. __

"Really." He was really close to her now. "And have been wondering – how _did_ you know I was a demon?"

She tried to think coherently. _He_'_s determined to make this hard_, _isn_'_t he_. "Don't demons know their own when they see one?" She asked in an offhand voice.

"Well, of course." His hands brushed through her intolerable mane of bushiness. "What do you expect?" He grinned at her. A shiver causing sort of grin, she thought uneasily.

And strangely, she didn't have the heart to tell him to get his hands off her.

"You've pretty much said it," she said dryly. "Why wouldn't we recognize our own?"

"That's a rhetorical question," he answered, smiling slightly. He couldn't help himself – all this bantering was changing something within him. He had withdrawn from the shadows only to meet unexpectedly with something that was better than shadows and darkness.

As hard as that was to believe, it was true – the unbreakable, face slapping truth. She was no longer intrigued by him – she found herself wanting to know more about him, what his desires were, what ticked him off . . wait a second. Did she want to – oh, honestly!

Her eyes blinked at that. That was the most ridiculous idea she'd ever come up with. Honestly, her of all people, to think of getting involved – especially with someone like _him_. The word was a delightful poison in her mind, teasing her to test the what ifs and apparently impossible obstacles.

She sighed. Maybe she was suffering from long term lunar lunacy. A lovely "benefit" from being a creature of the night, even if she wasn't ruled by the moon. Demons were known to suffer from temporary and long term lunacy, after all.

"What's your name, wretch?" He fixed an inquisitive stare at her. "You seem too smart to be out at this time of night, even if you're a demon."

"Hermione." She replied curtly. "That's all you need to know."

He smirked playfully. "Why? Afraid I'm going to chase you down and hunt you for your blood?" He raised an eyebrow.

"You might do it," she said defensively. "And anyhow, I'm just someone you've happened to meet at the park. No one special." _And definitely someone **not **to remember_, she was about to add, but didn't bother.

"Sure. I don't buy that." He sounded incredulous. And honestly he was. This chit was definitely something else – he didn't doubt that she was unlike anyone he'd ever met, or would meet in the future. And her personality intrigued him – he wanted to know about her, now. Everything that was Hermione and everything that was connected with her. It was unlike anything he'd ever felt before – if he had felt anything.

She laughed bitterly. "Of course you don't. And do you have a name?" She abruptly changed the subject.

"Maybe," his eyes twinkled with amusement. "Or maybe not. You choose."

"You do so have a name!" She exclaimed, startled to find herself laughing. This laughing wasn't the constrained sort that she'd been doing all her life. No, she actually felt _free_ now. As if all the restraints that'd been holding her still had finally broken, leaving her free and liberated from invisible bonds that were entirely her own.

He only gave her a half smile. "If you honestly want to know – it's Harry."

She accepted it, like she had accepted everything else of him (albeit grudgingly sometimes). "Why have you been keeping silent about it?" She inquired. "Because if it's about how "simple" your name is –" She glared at him.

He bit back a laugh. "No, it isn't, don't worry. I usually don't tell anyone my name – it's not important." The look he gave her then sent chills throughout every part of her. _How could so much emotion be packed into one single look_? She wondered vaguely. "It doesn't tell anything about me, does it? Whether I'm a human or a supernatural being. It's a human name that shouldn't be used by demons." He chuckled harshly, subtly reminding her of how dangerous he was – and could be. But she didn't run away; she wasn't afraid of him.

"Maybe it's a human name," she said quietly, "but that doesn't mean demons can't use it. Your name may identify you, Harry, but it says everything and more about who you are."

"Not what I am?" A cool gaze met her. "Doesn't scream out that I'm a demon, that I'm someone to be despised and treated with only shame and fear?"

"No." She let everything in that single word sink in. "As cheesy as this sounds, your name doesn't determine whether you're a nobody or not. Nothing does, unless you count people who are afraid of themselves."

He smiled briefly at this.

"Actually, nothing determines whether you're a person or not. Whether you're human or not human. Only you can decide that for yourself, Harry." She gave him her best encouraging smile. "I think your name speaks for itself, though."

Harry chuckled again and shook his head. "And to think I had plans of stealing your soul – if you had one," he said softly under his breath. "Don't want to think or imagine what would have happened if I did." He closed his eyes.

She put a hand on his arm, hoping that was some sort of comfort to him. "Me neither, but you know what? It's a good thing that you didn't. After all," she let a small smile form on her lips, "I wouldn't have gotten the chance to know you, if only for a little while. I would have not known who you were and why you're here and –" She couldn't bring herself to finish.

But he understood. In an odd way, he did, but that didn't faze him. So what if he had known this ch – _Hermione_, he corrected himself, feeling a glowing warmth within him – for a few hours? He felt as if he'd known her his entire life, instead of a short time of two or three hours. He'd learned more about her that he ever would in a lifetime, and he was sure that she felt the same about him, too.

At least, he hoped, she did.

* * *

"Oh!" She exclaimed softly, catching a glimpse of the moon, which was covered by dense trees that rose high in the sky. "Have we been talking all night?"

"Seems that we have," he agreed, reluctant to let her go. Now he realized what a foolish person he had been. Amazing how a few precious hours could change his outlook on life and everything in it so much, he thought wryly. "Doesn't seem like it, though."

She sighed. "No." She looked thoughtful for a moment. "Say," she said tentatively, "how would it be if we talked here every night?"

His eyes widened slightly, although he tried and ultimately failed, to hide it. "I would love it," he said in a tone that he hoped was casual. After a moment he paused, then began. "Talking to you really helps, Hermione," he said slowly, "especially tonight." He looked at her, finding her shocked eyes with his quavering ones in the darkness.

"And . . how to say it. Everything I believed changed after today." He laughed quietly at himself. "And you have everything to do with it. You are the dosage of reality and comfort that I needed – and still need, Hermione." He gulped and took a deep breath. "What I'm trying to say is – after today, I know I can't live without you." He braced himself for the rejection that was sure to follow.

"Do you mean it?" She finally asked, finding herself speechless, and yet hoping that everything he told her was true. "It would be a blind hope of mine, though, to think that you mean it."

He stared at her. "I can't believe you, Hermione. Even though you probably won't believe me, I can assure you that it's all true. Every bit of it – I've never felt this way in my life, ever. But I know that it's not something I conjured up, and I definitely do not regret it."

With those words everything tumbled down. She wasn't sure whether to laugh, cry, scream – or do all of them. She didn't know what to do, for the first time in her life. The always knowledgeable one, the person who knew what to do – that wasn't her now. And, she noted with an overwhelming sense of relief, she was glad that she wasn't. She didn't need to be experienced in every realm of the world now; all that didn't matter. What – or who – mattered now was standing in front of her.

To her shock, tears found their way out of her tear ducts and ran down her cheeks. She tasted salt, a bitter taste to her mouth. A bitter but refreshing taste, to reassure her that this was real, that what she felt was real. That she wasn't dreaming this, that it was all true and not a wishful figment of her imagination.

_Oh_, _shit_, he thought, horrified. _I made her cry now_. His mind drawing a blank on what to say, he drew her close to him and hugged her tightly, hoping that this would comfort her somehow. He hoped it did. She gasped quietly and sternly told herself to get a grip. Rubbing her eyes, her sobs slowly subsided. "I'm sorry about that," she said, her voice quavering. "Didn't mean to break down like that." Hopefully she would regain her dignity now.

"It's okay," Harry breathed, relieved. "It's okay to cry, you know that. Even strong people like you."

She shook her head. "I'm not strong, even though I appear to be." She smiled through her tears – he had to suck in his breath. No words could describe how truly beautiful she was. "Sometimes strong people have to break down – but not me, I thought before. And look what happened now." She laughed at herself, feeling strangely, unbelievably alive.

"And you know what? It's because of you – you broke through my barrier, Harry. No one ever has – you're the only person who has caused me to _feel _like myself again. Before I was just a cold, bitter shell of myself. You witnessed that," she admitted unashamedly. "I'm not a cranky crone anymore. I actually – I don't know. It's so hard to describe what I'm feeling." She looked at him with bright eyes. "But know that you're the one I'm so grateful for. You made me come back to life, Harry."

His cheeks burned with embarrassment, but he was happy – happy beyond all meaning. "You've done the same to me, Hermione," he said with a small smile tugging up at the corners of his mouth. "You understand me. You know me. And you know I'm grateful to you, too."

She laughed; it was sweet and lovely music to his ears. "Ey!" She exclaimed, surprised. "It's raining . . ." Wonder filled her eyes and amazement shone in her voice.

Small plinks of raindrops on his glasses caught him off guard right then. "So it is," he laughed, feeling so strangely alive. "Reckon we should go find some shelter?"

"No," she said vehemently, a grin slowly spreading across her face. "Rain's the best time to be outside in. No sunshine could compare to this. Come on!" She dragged him by the arm over to the center of the park, and he was inevitably drawn to laughing and whooping and dancing, raindrops splattering on the both of them. But they didn't care. Right now, as they danced in the lovely downpour of rain upon them, they couldn't have cared less yet couldn't have been more ecstatic.

Spinning each other around, hooking their arms together, Harry found his eyes drawn to the vivid brownness of her eyes, and then to her mouth. Everything stopped around them, and they didn't notice the rain. All they knew was each other, and it was at that moment, wet, cold and elated from the rain, when their lips met in a longing, loving kiss. Every bit of pent up longing and love they had was shared in that seemingly frozen, blissful moment. Then it was unexpectedly, regretfully over, as they pulled away, not willing to let go of each other's eyes and the time they had together.

The same longing that he had in his eyes was reflected in her own, and a delightful shock shot down to her toes and then spread out everywhere in her. She reveled in the deliciousness of it, and realized that she never, never wanted to let this feeling go away. She wanted it to stay within her, and as long as she was with him and he was with her, she decided, that wouldn't happen anytime soon. All the little insecurities she had were still here, lurking in her mind – but she knew if they were in this together, which they were, those annoying things would dissolve. If Harry was with her, Hermione knew, while they wouldn't be prefect – they would be fine. And that was enough for her. Maybe that was a little too optimistic for her, but she decided to take a chance. There was no harm in taking chances – especially if they dealt with her happiness. Not only hers, but Harry's, too. And she knew that he knew that, too.

Looking at her now in the rain, her bushy hair dripping wet and in tangly curls, Harry was _very _glad he had decided to take a chance. They weren't a whirlwind romance, or a spur of the moment, one day only fling – he knew they were the opposite. So _what _if they had known each other for a little while? In those moments he had found himself confronting what he feared the most – losing someone again, namely Hermione. He still loved her, and had a feeling he would feel that way for a long time. His feelings wouldn't change back and forth, leaving him agonizingly undecided. What mattered the most was not how long they'd known each other, he figured, but how much they knew each other. And he knew without even telling himself that.

He couldn't explain how or why he felt this way – he just did. There was no need for an explanation – why explain what you felt? Truth and logic couldn't explain everything. He smiled grimly at that thought. They didn't need an explanation, and if someone wanted one, they could sod off, since they weren't going to get any. He and Hermione hadn't rushed into this head first; and even if they did, it was no one's business. And he made sure to keep it that way. His eyes glittered at that thought.

Something had distinctively changed in him, something that had to do with her. He didn't know what it was, but he felt . . strange. And vibrantly alive. Harry shook his head, knowing who had caused that to happen, who had made him feel this. And he didn't blame her. Not at all.

He was glad that she had been the one to make him look at everything in a different and new way – that in one evening, she changed the way he looked at things completely. Not intentionally, he knew, she hadn't meant to. But she had – and he was glad that she did. She hadn't changed him; since she loved and was happy with him being who he was, he knew. And she wouldn't change him for anything in the world – like he wouldn't change her. If they accepted and love each other for who they were, which they did, that was enough. More than enough for the two of them.

This wasn't foolish, he felt. Not foolish at all. And if anyone found something wrong with that, or them, he would "politely" tell them to mind their own business. He scoffed at the thought – of course people would find something wrong with them, and them being together, but he didn't care. As long as Hermione was happy, and he was happy, and _they _were happy together, that was all that mattered.

A raindrop splashed on his face. "Oh, Harry, you look like you're drowning," Hermione tried to fight down her giggles, but failed. A grin spread across his face, and he shook his head, amusement lighting up his eyes.

"I know," he retorted, "but that's the price you have to pay. Now what are we doing here, standing around like lunatics in the rain doing nothing?"

She didn't leave that question unanswered – she started spinning around again and dragged him with her. Not that he minded.

As the rain continued its torrent on them, Harry decided that there was no better place for him now. The rain was his solace – and so was she.


End file.
